In the 1990s, a thirteen-year-old illiterate, Christian boy, Salamat Masih, was sentenced to death by a lower court in Pakistan (the conviction being reversed by the Lahore High Court eventually), for allegedly chalking anti-Islamic slogans on the wall of a Mosque. With the exception of Justice Arif Bhatti, Asma Jahangir and a handful of sane voices, no one came forward to support the minority community in their time of need.
In 2015, Pakistan’s Minister for Minorities, Shahbaz Bhatti, was murdered in cold blood for speaking of reforming the blasphemy law. His own political party did not have the courage to come out in his support. In the same year, a Christian couple was thrashed and burnt alive after being thrown into a brick kiln in the town of Kot Radha Kishan. More recently, fanatics overpowered the government yet again, openly inciting violence against Aasia Bibi, who was acquitted after having languished in jail over false charges of blasphemy for a decade. Yet, we still have an ambiguously worded and over-reaching blasphemy law and we remain in search of a leader who will have the moral courage and strength to stand up and say “enough is finally enough”; that minorities in Pakistan have the right to live freely and in peace.
It seems as though that is but a distant reality, especially considering the never-ending tragedy of forced conversions of minor Hindu girls in this country. Perhaps the most nauseating thing about this society is its inability to move beyond its distorted conceptions of “religion” and “morality”. This “religion” and “morality” have transformed us into unrepentant monsters: quick to judge, unwilling to reason and ever-ready to kill.
What then comes as no surprise (having accepted that hypocrisy is part of our social fabric) is the overwhelmingly positive response of Pakistanis to the manner in which the Prime Minister of New Zealand, Jacinda Adern has conducted herself in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks against Muslims in her country. Can you imagine any politician in Pakistan standing so openly and firmly with the minority community in their time of grief and need? It is simply unimaginable in Pakistan in 2019. In fact, we’ve seen quite the opposite at the beginning of this new government’s tenure with the forced resignation of Atif Mian from the Economic Advisory Council.
We are the epitome of hypocrisy: applauding Jacinda Adern for her compassion for New Zealand’s minorities but having no compassion for our own Aasia bibi and countless others who dare not take a breath lest their breath be construed as blasphemy
Of course, this contempt is not reserved for minorities: it extends to the transgender community, women, children and effectively anyone who is either a member of an already severely marginalized community or vulnerable to exploitation. Remember the words of 12-year-old Awad in Kasur who narrated the horror of sexual abuse inflicted upon him by his employer at a factory he worked at: “He used to take my name, and say, ‘Awad you are my gift’… He said that and kept hurting me. I could not refuse, because he paid me”.
Awad is not the only one and the whole country is well aware of the rampant nature of child sexual abuse in Pakistan. We are similarly aware of the senseless violence perpetrated against our women but we are more concerned about expressions of their anger as opposed to resolving their problems. In 2015 alone, over 1000 “honour” crimes were reported and since 2012 till today, at least 4,900 innocent people have lost their lives in “honour”-related violence in our country. This year, two separate incidents were reported of two women killed in the name of “honour” in Toba Tek Singh.
Of course, this violence is similarly exacted against those who stand up in support of victims, struggling to end these horrendous practices. Why wouldn’t it be when the State has actively contributed to a pervasive culture of impunity? Afzal Kohistani is one example: he engaged every level of the State apparatus, from the police to the court system and what result did he manage to get? Four gunshots on the evening of 6 March resulting in the loss of his life. And for what? For saying women shouldn’t be killed in the name of “honour”: for believing that human life is worth something more than what our barbaric society understands its worth to be.
And here we are, after all this violence and bloodshed, still disgustingly unrepentant and unwilling to acknowledge that the very fabric of our society needs a major overhaul. We will continue on like this until the social structures on which this society is established are shattered, and not a single remnant of this toxic patriarchy and religiosity left.
For now, we are the society that will tell women not to hold a placard demanding men stop sending pictures of their genitals (with some men even having the gall to come forward and say sending pictures of their genitals is their “fundamental human right”), but we will never dare to hold the men who grope, rape, abuse and harass women (and young girls) accountable (perhaps in this country, that too is their “fundamental human right”).
We are the epitome of hypocrisy: applauding Jacinda Adern for her compassion for New Zealand’s minorities but having no compassion for our own Aasia bibi and countless others who dare not take a breath lest their breath be construed as blasphemy. Everything is blasphemous in Pakistan: a property dispute, a woman exercising her right to marry who she wants, a child crying out for help as his own family members sexually assault him.
Morality is loosely defined as the set of principles that enables us to distinguish between right or good and wrong or bad. Its time we revisit our ideas of the place of “morality” and “religion” in our society because where we stand today is the furthest from even the most ambiguous constructions of “right” and “good”. Instead of trying to create a “Madinah ki riyasat”, perhaps we ought to end our religious siyasat.
The writer is a lawyer